


Reconnaissance

by dharmavati, sporkyadrasteia (dharmavati)



Category: The Incredibles (2004)
Genre: 1000-5000 Words, Crossover Universe, F/F, Femslash, Mystery, Pre-Slash, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-03 17:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dharmavati/pseuds/dharmavati, https://archiveofourown.org/users/dharmavati/pseuds/sporkyadrasteia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many years later, Violet Parr runs into a familiar face in Paris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reconnaissance

Violet knocked on the door twice and stood back, absentmindedly fiddling with her press badge. After two minutes, a disinterested man in a beret opened the door and glanced at her with a bored, weary expression.

"_Oui?_" he asked impatiently.

"Um, hi. I'm a reporter and—" she began, trying to fish the invite from her purse.

"--I'm sorry, no clearance," he responded and made to shut the door.

"No, wait! I have this backstage pass!" Violet held the invite up. "I'm a good friend of Edna Mode and she personally sent this to me."

"I am sorry but Mademoiselle Mode is very busy with ze last-minute arrangements for ze runway show right n-OW!" Violet jumped as the startled man's knees buckled before her. Once second later, she could see the petite, annoyed designer elbowing her way past her assistant's legs.

"What are you doing, Jean-Luc? Go take care of that food cart before those girls eat everything and stop fitting into my dresses!" Even at her short height, she towered over him and glared as he collapsed to the floor. As the scared assistant nodded and crawled away from the door, she turned around without skipping a beat to face Violet with a huge, unnerving smile. "Darling!"

"Hey, Edna," Violet replied, unable to suppress a slight tremor in her voice.

"Come in, _come in_!" Violet followed her into the staging area, past racks of dresses and impossibly high heels. "I have my runway show in an hour but I left my design for your new suit in my room and it is _fabulous_. Fuchsia is in this season and you are _made_ for jewel tones. It will look much better than those ridiculous standard-issue suits they're giving you now."

She opened the door to the office filled with design sketches on the walls, plush armchairs around a glass coffee table, and mannequins in vibrant dresses and spandex. Violet bit her lip apologetically as she sat down in one of the chairs.

"Oh, wow, Edna. This is… really nice of you. But I'm not here to get a new suit. You know that."

"I can't have you out in public in that rag you wear now, darling. It's so embarrassing for me, you have no idea. I tried to do some material and design consulting for that Super Intervention Agency of yours but they have no concept of understanding the No Capes rule." Edna rolled her eyes irritably as she flipped through one of her sketchpads.

"Yeah, what I mean is… I'm not doing any more hero work for now. I retired from the SIA two years ago."

"_What?_" Edna dropped her sketchpad in surprise. "Why would you do that? You're in your _prime_. You can't give up your duty! Your father and mother were doing their best work at your age, although I look back at the photos and find their hobo suits hideous. I'm so glad I got over that cyan phase with your father…"

Violet shrugged at her. "I joined the SIA for some time and it was okay. I was good when it came to training the new recruits in the basics and everything but, unlike Mom, Dad, or Dash, I don't have powers that work well when we're actually on the field. I can only make myself invisible and now there are other Supers that can do force fields to a much greater degree than I can. I was becoming a bit redundant to the team effort. Plus, I now get a chance to focus on my real job."

Edna crossed her arms and looked extremely unimpressed. "You left hero work for _fashion journalism_?"

"Hey, I love it," Violet defended. "I get to sleep better and I now get to travel all over to world to report on fashion shows. It's a lot more stress-free."

By now, Edna looked quite outraged as she climbed onto the coffee table to reach Violet at eye level. "More _stress-free_ than saving the world? Of course it is! With great power comes great--"

"—Yeah, yeah, I _know_," Violet sighed. She has heard it all before, from Agent Dicker, Mom, Dad, and even Dash, who remained convinced that there could be no greater job in the world than being paid by the government to constantly run around all day while breaking the sound barrier and fight crime. "I might go back, you know, when I feel like I could be helpful or something. Right now, I was feeling really out of it and felt like I wasn't contributing as much to crime-fighting as everyone else. Plus, I wanted to focus on my normal job and make headway there. And now I write for the Style section of the _Metroville Times_ and might become an editor next year if this summer's Fashion Week spread goes well. And I get to write about your collection." She grinned at Edna, who then relaxed somewhat.

"Write a good review, darling, won't you?"

"Depends if you let me go back to my seat in time." She made sure to give Edna a hug before winding her way past supermodels and makeup artists towards the exit to the audience seats.

* * *

It took her a few minutes to find her seat but Violet sighed in relief when it ended up being near enough to the stage to get a proper view. As she sat down and rummaged through her purse to bring out her notepad, the woman next to her bent to the ground before turning to her.

"Hi, I think you dropped your phone," she pointed out, holding a cell phone in her hand. Violet recognized it as her own.

"Oh, thank you, I didn't even realize that," Violet responded, accepting the cell phone back from her.

The woman, carefully smoothing the wrinkles in her dress, seemed to look at her in recognition. "Hey. You're… _Bob_'s daughter, aren't you?"

Violet looked at her with confusion. "I'm sorry. What?"

"You're…," she paused, struggling to remember something, "…Violet, aren't you? Violet Parr?"

"Yes, that's me. Do I know you from somewhere?"

The woman grinned slightly. "Maybe. I'm not sure if you remember. You were younger when… we crossed paths." She continued in a hushed tone. "You probably last saw me on Syndrome's island."

"Oh." Violet shifted to get a better look at this "acquaintance" from the past. Suddenly, the woman's sleek, silver hair and the green eyes looked more and more familiar. "I _do_ remember you. Well, by face, anyway."

The woman laughed and extended her hand. "You can call me Mira."

Violet shook her hand. "Nice to meet you again, I suppose."

"What brings you to Paris Fashion Week?"

"I'm a fashion journalist for the _Metroville Times_ so I'm covering the major summer collections for them. What are you here for?"

"I suppose you could say that I'm more of a… customer."

"Have you lived here for long?"

Mira's mouth twitched in amusement. "I tend to be on the move a lot for my job but I enjoy Paris very much. I like to see the sights when I'm here.

"So do I, but I usually only come here on business trips so far, so I never get to go out as much as I'd like."

"Oh yes, that's a pity. Are you doing anything in the evening, after the show?"

Violet shook her head. "I just head back to my hotel room to start on my articles."

"Would you mind having dinner with me? I'd love to hear about how your family is doing. I've kind of been out of the loop, if you can imagine." She smiled widely with gleaming teeth.

"Sure," Violet replied as the lights dimmed. "I'd love to."

They both turned to see Edna march onto the runway as if she owned the stage.

"_Bonjours et bienvenue._ Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Edna Mode summer collection of Paris Fashion Week."

* * *

"_Un table pour deux personnes, s'il vous plâit._"

The maître d' nodded, swiveled around and motioned them to follow him. It took a few seconds for Violet to realize that he was actually moving around in roller-skates.

"I didn't expect that in a French restaurant," she remarked to Mira, who chuckled.

"You shouldn't underestimate _La Ratatouille_," Mira said as they were seated at a table in the far corner. "It may be near the outskirts of town but this food is so much more delicious than the big fancy _haute cuisine_ restaurants in the middle of the city. I wouldn't go anywhere else. Plus, you get fast service from those roller-skating waiters."

"I guess that's pretty cool," Violet admitted as she browsed helplessly through the intimidating menu. "Although, I have no clue what to order. Do you have any recommendations?"

"Well, anything on the menu is well worth trying but _most_ people go for the Chef's Special. It's always something unexpected and, yet, still absolutely divine for your taste buds."

"Sounds great."

"Do you have any preference in wine?"

"Um, not really. I'm a bit clueless about wines, to be honest," Violet replied apologetically. In truth, she was more of a Pizza Planet take-out kind of person than the savvy, cosmopolitan woman smiling in front of her.

"That's no problem," Mira assured her as a lanky, red-haired waiter approached their table. "I think I'll order for the both of us, then."

She turned to the waiter and ordered in French at a rate and level of fluency Violet could have never mustered, even with those four years of high school training.

Mira paused to check with Violet. "He says that tonight's special is sautéed steak with the chef's special sauce. Would you like me to order it for you?"

"Well, I've probably never had anything like that before, so why not?"

As Mira gave the waiter an affirmative order, Violet chose to glance around the restaurant, admiring the dècor and the warm atmosphere of the place. She was too busy staring at the ivy winding near the ceiling that she did not realize at first that Mira had asked her a question.

"I'm so sorry, I was… being absentminded. What did you say before?"

To her relief, Mira did not look annoyed and, instead, leaned forward again. "I was just wondering what brought you into the fashion world. Were you always interested in journalism?"

"Sort of. I liked writing and it was just another way to sort of combine all my interests. I wanted to have something that I truly enjoyed on the side when I worked with the SIA but then I left when my journalism opportunities sort of evolved into a full-time job."

Mira nodded and took a sip of water. "You were with the SIA? The Super Intervention Agency?"

"Yeah, I joined after college. Agent Dicker enlisted my parents as soon as he was appointed Director and then Dash and I pretty much followed suit (Jack-Jack is still trying to decide what he wants to do with his life). I guess we Parrs tend to have more on-the-ground experience than other newer and younger Supers so we focused on training them on the basic stuff: safety, stealth, rescue missions and the like."

"Ah, yes, I can imagine," Mira commented, looking significantly amused. "I had heard about the SIA when that Super Relocation Act of yours was repealed. It must have been stressful work for all of you, especially if you were working with your family all the time. Did you leave because you didn't enjoy it?"

Violet laughed back. "I didn't really think of it that way at all. I mean, I was using my powers to save and improve people's lives. There was never any moment during my missions that was not exciting or meaningful. It was more because I felt like I wasn't contributing as much as everyone else and it was just a totally different environment than what I had been used to. Everyone knew who I was, what I could do, and what my family was like. I tried to fit in and get used to the feeling—I even went on a couple dates with a colleague."

"Another Super? What was that like?"

"I don't even know. It was pretty _awkward_, now that I look back," Violet replied, shuddering slightly. "I'm not sure how my parents managed dating alongside their double lives back in the day, but it was pretty weird. I mean, we had no chemistry and nothing in common besides the fact that we both could do superhuman things. It was around that point that I realized that being a Super had consumed all of my life. I decided to retire from SIA indefinitely just to get away from all that… extraneous baggage. Make a life that I could call my own, I guess."

"It makes sense. It's kind of interesting, though."

"Why?" asked Violet, puzzled.

"From what I remember of your father, he was sort of the opposite. He was tired of being forced to live that dull, ordinary life and was always trying to live in 'the good old days'. You, on the other hand, choose to live a life with being a Super from day-to-day."

Violet cocked her head slightly, digesting this idea. "I suppose. Although, we have different experiences about being a Super and therefore different perspectives on the issue."

"Definitely. That's something that you have to take into account. But, still, _I_ find that interesting."

"What about you? What do you do for a living now?"

Mira looked a bit thoughtful for a second and then replied. "I tend to do a lot of technical computer work for a few high-end clients. It keeps me constantly on my toes, but I love to travel and I'm a self-professed workaholic so I don't mind it at all."

"Computer work? Like what?"

"It varies from case to case, but it tends to be highly specialized stuff."

"Oh," responded Violet, unsure of what else to ask about her work and personal life. As much as Mira knew about her, Violet realized that she knew precious little about Mira's life other than the perhaps mutually uncomfortable topic of Syndrome. Thankfully, at that point, the waiter had arrived again with their soups.

"_Merci beaucoup_," Mira thanked the waiter as he left before returning to Violet. Mira tried the bowl of soup in front of her, prompting Violet to do the same.

"Mmmm. Oh, wow. This is _amazing_," Violet remarked, licking her lips. She had truly never tasted such a blend of flavors in her life.

"Yes, well, I _did_ tell you so," Mira grinned. "Just wait until you try the main course."

* * *

It was well past midnight when Mira's car dropped her at the hotel and then around two in the morning when Violet, pausing from the half-finished article on the runways shows of the past two days, decided to call home to check in with her parents. She slid down the phonebook of her cell phone and almost passing over a surprising, newly added entry: "Mira Raj - cell". When exactly she had added that to her list, she couldn't recall from her slightly wine-hazy memories of the evening but she shrugged and clicked below to select "Mom."

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mom. It's me, Violet."

"Violet! How are you doing, dear? Is everyone alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's okay. I got meet Edna today. Well, technically it was yesterday but I got to see her and she was all excited. You know her."

"I'm _sure_ she was," Helen said in a knowing tone. "But are you okay?"

"I'm _fine_, Mom, don't worry. I can take care of myself after all this time."

"Well, I was just checking. I'm your mom, after all."

Violet laughed. "Hey…. Mom? Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, dear."

"This is going to sound out of the blue, but do you remember that woman who was working Syndrome? The one who helped us escape that island in time?"

"Oh," said Helen and Violet could detect surprise in her tone, "do you mean Mirage?"

"Yeah. Do you happen to know what happened to her?"

"I'm probably not the most knowledgeable person about her activities. That's more of Agent Dicker's area of expertise."

"Agent Dicker?"

"Yeah. As far as _I_ know, he's been trying to track down her whereabouts for a long time. It doesn't help that no one is really sure about her abilities."

"Her… abilities?"

"I don't know, dear. I think Agent Dicker's _theory_ is that she's a technopath of some kind."

"Technopath? You mean, she can manipulate all sorts of technology?"

"Well, she's apparently been doing _something_ of that sort. She's enough of an expert hacker that she makes her own loopholes in a lot of government data and can cross borders without detection by any sort of machine. We know that face-recognition devices don't work on her. We're pretty sure she is somewhere in Eurasia but Dicker lost all traces of her around the Turkish border."

"Wow, really?"

"I don't know, honey. That's just what your dad and Agent Dicker told me. Dad's out _bowling_ right now," Helen replied. This code, of course, meant that Bob Parr and Lucius Bets were currently training the newest recruits in some undisclosed location. "Anyway, why do you ask about her?"

"Oh, well, you know," Violet began cautiously. Part of her wanted to tell Helen about her meeting with a possible fugitive, but part of her was equally keen to figure out for herself what motives Mirage/Mira would have had to go out of her way to contact and spend time with her. If Mirage was going to be a threat, Violet felt more than capable of handling her and if she had another motive entirely, then Violet wanted to find out the details by herself and it wouldn't do to have her mother worrying about her.

"I think I saw someone who looked just like her, today," she finally admitted to Helen. "She might have actually been a model of some kind, though."

"Perhaps. You have to keep in mind, though, that the actual Mirage would look a lot older now."

"Yeah, I realized that," Violet replied, "I just thought it reminded me of her and wanted to ask. I think I'll actually head to bed now, though."

"Oh right, I guess it's late in the night over there in France. Good night, Violet."

"G'night, Mom."

Violet turned her phone off, feeling terrible lying to her own mother about the circumstances, but, at the same time, she was now truly intrigued. What did Mirage want to do with her? What was she even doing in middle of Paris Fashion Week, talking to an ex-SIA agent over dinner? What was she up to?

Violet picked up her cell phone again, opened the phonebook, and hovered over Mirage's phone number with renewed curiosity. Obviously, another date with "Mira Raj" was in order.


End file.
